everywhere you go i'm stuck in your radio
by buy the stars
Summary: we can have a party, just the two of us / or, the story of massie and harris. for ailes du neige for the spring exchange.


this is for ailes du neige! my prompts were: "the story you tell yourself", doilies, burnt sienna cupcakes, & audrey hepburn references. the author's note is at the bottom. :)

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i. here is the deepest secret nobody knows

here are the things harris knows about massie, things that he keeps in the back of his heart, locked with a key that only she has access to.

1. she has a collection of doilies stored in the back of her closet. (in all honesty, he doesn't even fucking know.)

2. she really likes cupcakes, but only if the frosting is a burnt sienna color. he told her, one time, that they all tasted the same. she had punched him in the arm and it hurt like a bitch for a week.

3. she really likes teen titans. when they first started to date, she had asked him if he had ever watched the show. harris didn't know that saying yes would lead into a four hour debate on whether cyborg was cooler than robin or not. (he had let her win the argument, but to this day he still think cyborg's a badass.)

4. she loves him. (that's the story he tells himself, anyway.)

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ii. i just wish we could go back one more time and begin it

this is how it starts:

it's the first day of school and harris is late. he's sprinting down the briarwood halls when he runs into someone and his books scatter across the floor. he opens his mouth to say something, but cobalt blue meets amber and he freezes on the spot.

"hi," she says. she smirks, as if she knows the effect she has on him already. her lips are the color of sin (in this moment, he is eve, with a serpent in his ear whispering for him to taste the forbidden fruit).

he knows he has to have her.

/

(harris 5:31): you have obi-wandered your way into my heart.

(harris 5:31): i just found your number on the ground today. weird coincidence, right? it's like fate is hinting at something.

(harris 5:31): i'm the guy you ran into today. just to clear things up.

(harris 5:32): i'm not creepy. just wanted to throw that out there.

(harris 5:40): I KNOW YOU'RE READING THESE

(harris 5:40): sorry, my friend took my phone. what a weirdo, right?

/

harris wants to make a map out of all of her thoughts. he wants to know, know what makes her happy, what makes her sad, what makes her scream. he wants to explore each and every part of her. she's a mystery, one of those puzzles that has a thousand pieces that no one really takes the time to finish, always left undone with a quarter of the puzzle still missing.

(harris used to love puzzles as a kid, and he would spend hours after school trying to jam the pieces together. he would gladly spend years and years learning about massie, connecting the dots, one by one.)

/

(massie 11:11): star wars pick up lines? really?

(massie 11:12): you're lucky you're cute.

/

harris' favorite subject is math. he likes statistics and logic and facts. he likes knowing that a2 + b2 = c2, and that x always comes before y. there's always one answer, and it doesn't change. so his crush on massie doesn't make sense. at all.

there's no logical reason why he always turns an abnormal shade of red when he talks to her. there's no logical reason why he's always fumbling around with his words. there's no reason why he always seems to get butterflies around her (oh god, they need to be murdered).

he starts writing a lot of bad poems.

/

when he kisses her, it feels like what dreams are made of (_hey now, hey now_). she tastes like happiness and sunshine and berries. whenever he kisses her, he feels free. he could get high on her taste and her smell, and her.

he starts writing really, really good poetry.

/

he likes the ways they fit. he likes the way her hand slips in his and it feels like it belongs there. he likes the way her head fits perfectly into the crook of his neck, the way they can always finish each other's sentences.

he seriously hates how she's turning him into such a sentimental sap.

/

it's not an epic love story. they're not chuck and blair, blair and chuck (massie makes him watch a lot of gossip girl). there's no kisses in the rain, no slow motion running into each other's arms. instead, there's baking in the middle of the night (cupcakes with burnt sienna frosting) and driving to the middle of nowhere and just talking (read: massie making fun of him relentlessly about how much he likes star wars) and late night phone calls filled with laughter, banter and comfortable silences.

it's more than enough for him.

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iii. how i long to become your suicide blonde

"i think i love you."

"excuse me?"

"i love you."

"so what?"

"so what? mass, so plenty."

"i'm sorry."

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iiii. i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)

massie's list of her favorite (true) facts:

1) there are 1,792 steps to the top of the eiffel tower.

2) a monkey was once convicted for smoking a cigarette in indiana.

3) all porcupines float in water.

4) she loves harris to the moon and back. (always have, always will)

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**a/n**: i'm actually not sure what this is, actually. i really wanted to try a new format, and hopefully you like it! (also, let's pretend that ocd doesn't exist and briarwood is co-ed).

i changed "that's the story you tell yourself" a bit so it would fit with the point of view. :)

the audrey hepburn references was in the breakup paragraph, the "so what" and the "so plenty" were from breakfast at tiffany's. also, here's a slight easter egg: part i and part iiii are both from an e.e cummings poem.

i hope you enjoyed it!


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